


Unequal Disadvantage

by Windsett



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Cane, Fighting, Gen, not very serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windsett/pseuds/Windsett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newton gets into trouble, and in the process of saving him Hermann reveals he's more than what he seems.</p>
<p>Based on the kink meme prompt of: <em>Hermann has something cool like a fencing saber installed in his cane and when someone fucks with them he kicks their ass and keeps talking like nothing happened.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Unequal Disadvantage

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like writing something not very serious and light-hearted, and then came across the aforementioned prompt on the lj kink meme.
> 
> The title is based on George Bernard Shaw's quote of: 'That is the whole secret of successful fighting. Get your enemy at a disadvantage and never, on any account, fight him on equal terms.'
> 
> Please don't take this work too seriously, and thank you for reading!

‘Bloody typical.’

Hermann stands in the open door to the lab, scowling in at the sight before him. 

‘It really is just bloody typical. I leave you alone for ten minutes – _ten minutes_ – and this is what I come back to!’

Newton tries to scowl back, but can only produce a face that looks like he’s trying to hold back a sneeze. ‘I didn’t plan this you know!’

‘Really?’

‘Yes really! You think I _like_ being in this state?’

Hermann considers the scene in front of him.

Newton is sitting on a chair, hands and legs tightly bound to it, looking even more dishevelled than when they Drifted and saved the world less than a week ago. He’s bleeding freely from both nostrils, and a collection of bruises over his face and around his eyes are beginning to darken. He’s clearly scared, but there’s also an underlying current of inappropriate excitement to his posture. Surrounding him stand Hannibal Chau and two of his minions, both of whom are holding a weapon and scowling fiercely. 

‘I honestly don’t know how to answer that truthfully.’

‘Oh thanks! Thanks a _lot._

‘You’re not welcome. Now would you mind telling me how you got yourself into such a ridiculous predicament?’

Newton ponders for a second. ‘I think this is all just a case of mistaken identity. Like on an old fashioned sit com. Except it hurts a lot more than you think, and there’s no canned laughter in the background.’

‘For God’s sake.’ Hermann sighs loudly, and shifts his weight to lean on his cane. ‘Now correct me if I’m wrong, although I very much doubt I _am_ , but would the following summation be accurate: Mr Chau and his merry band of men – and women – here, politely asked if they could visit the lab to bring to your attention some rare specimens you might be interested in purchasing and, with barely restrained glee in your voice, you quickly accepted and promised they could come over. You then no doubt high-fived an imaginary friend after the conclusion of the conversation, before running round the lab in circles like an excited puppy that’s-’

‘Hey!’

‘Don’t interrupt. And as soon as I set one foot out of the lab you called them up and escorted them in here, confident in your presumption that it would take me far longer than it did to present my report.’

Silence.

‘But then – surprise of all surprises – it turned out that your new best chums _lied_ to you! There were no specimens for your delectation, and they actually wanted to see you for something _else._ ’ Hermann shakes his head sadly. ‘Will the ways of this wicked world never end?’

‘You really do love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?’ Newton snaps. ‘Any chance of giving it a rest and helping me out?’

‘I’m right though, aren’t I?’ Hermann presses on, as a smug smile threatens to form on his lips. ‘Everything I said, right on the button.’

‘This is just like you!’ Newman spits out in exasperation. ‘You see someone all tied up and hurt and bleeding and all you can think about is proving your _point?_ You want to talk about typical behaviour let’s start with that, shall we, since you always-’

‘Goddamit _enough!’_ Hannibal shouts, as he bends forward and smacks Newton around the back of his head.

_‘Ow!’_

‘I didn’t come here to watch a domestic! You and your boyfriend can continue this later, but right now I want my case back.’

‘What case?’ Newton asks innocently. ‘And he’s _not_ my boyfriend; I am _way_ out of his league, and-’

Newton’s rewarded with another hard smack to the head. 

_‘Hey!’_

‘I want back the case you _stole_ from me!’

‘You stole his case?’ Hermann repeats dully, as he shifts his gaze from Hannibal back to Newton. ‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’

‘I didn’t _steal_ it, I borrowed it! Big difference here guys, big difference – I _was_ going to give it back, and- and I mean I am, I _am_ going to give it back.’

Hermann shakes his head slowly. 

‘I _am!_ I just…need a bit more time with it.’

‘Well your time’s up now buddy,’ Hannibal warns darkly. ‘I want it back. And you’re not getting out of here until you do.’

‘That’s extortion!’ Newton complains. ‘You can’t just come into a man’s home and assault him and demand back property like this! It’s…it’s unconstitutional. Yeah, it’s unlawful and unnatural and I hope you all have good lawyers, because I’m suffering a lot of distress here, both in a physical _and_ in an emotional sense.’ He pauses for a beat. ‘Maybe even in a spiritual one too. ’

‘Oh for God’s sake.’ Hermann looks hard at Newton and grips his cane tight. ‘Just give him back his case and this can all be done with, and then you can get on with the more important job of cleaning this place up. Look at it, it’s _disgusting_ : smashed glass, bloodstained surfaces, torn papers, Kaiju – _are those Kaiju entrails slithering down my blackboard?’_

‘…my hand may have slipped.’ 

Hermann closes his eyes and uses his other hand to cover them. He inhales deeply, lowers his hand, opens his eyes back up, and exhales slowly.

‘Tell Mr Chau where the case is, Doctor Geiszler.’

Newton shifts in his chair. ‘See the thing is I’d _like_ to, but all the knocks to the head I’ve received just now is making my memory go a bit fuzzy, and I can’t _quite_ remember where I put-’

A third smack to the back of his head, and Newton is grimacing now. 

‘Uncool man,’ Newton complains.

‘Give me back my case,’ Hannibal continues, as he brings out his switch blade and presses the flat of the blade against Newton’s neck, ‘or else there’ll be a lot more blood in this place to clean up.’

Newton tenses, and sucks in a breath. ‘ _Way_ uncool.’

Hermann has also tensed, and his eyes narrow. ‘I would strongly suggest you cease and desist with your aggressive methods Mr Chau.’

Hannibal grins. ‘Would you now?’

‘Yes, I would.’ Hermann stands up straight. ‘Or you will regret it.’

Hannibal laughs, his workers laugh, Newton makes an odd sort of noise in the back of his throat, and Hermann forms his lips into a hard line. 

‘You will regret it very much.’

‘This is priceless,’ Hannibal comments approvingly. ‘But I haven’t got time to watch this show.’ He looks at the dark haired man standing next to him and nods his head in Hermann’s direction. ‘Put an end to this.’

The dark haired man grins. ‘You’re gonna shut up and do exactly as we say, you pathetic crippled old man!’

_‘…old man?’_ Hermann echoes incredulously. 

Newton’s snort is cut off abruptly, as the flat of the blade presses harder into his windpipe. 

‘That’s right Grandpa! It’s time for you to count stars and let the big boys play now.’ 

Hermann stands stock still and watches the man advance towards him, and can’t fail to see that he holds a coil of heavy chain loosely in each hand. 

Hermann’s eyes run up and down him like an x-ray scanner, briskly and thoroughly, before he takes a breath and looks him in the eye. ‘Now tell me; is the willing acquisition and precise deployment of a vast array of accurate anatomical knowledge a pre-requisite for joining your assembly?’

‘…what?’

‘I’ll take that blank-faced look and stuttering response as a resounding _no,_ then, shall I?’

‘…shut the fuck up!’ 

The man picks up his pace, striding now, as he raises the chains and begins to twirl them above and around him. They clink and glint, a metal whirlwind trapped indoors, and the man smiles easily.

Hermann forces his muscles to relax and begins to calculate; one eye on his attacker’s eye and the other on his attacker’s arms, absorbing speed and rhythm and distance. He ignores Newton’s shouting and stands his ground, eyes loose but focused as he calculates.

_Ignore the chains, look at the wrists; the wrists and arms and the tense of muscle that will announce a shift in movement._

The whirling chains are eating through the air quickly, and are almost upon him now. 

The flashing wall of metal comes closer and closer, and Hermann can smell the rusted iron and feel the air part before him, as the tip of one chain link almost brushes his nose before it’s pulled back for the final blow and the man’s laughing loudly and pulling his lips back into a snarl and- 

_Now_

With a startling speed, Hermann jerks his cane up and outwards. It finds a perfect path through the flying chains and fluid limbs and sinks into the exact spot he’s picked out on his attacker’s neck. 

The man immediately collapses onto the floor, heavy chains raining down upon him, as Hermann rights his cane and leans back onto it. 

‘Oh, dude, _sweet!_ But how the _fuck_ did you-’

_‘Language_ Doctor Geiszler!’ Hermann scolds, as he looks disdainfully at the man lying at his feet. ‘It’s most improper to spout such profanities at the best of times, but they should _definitely_ not be uttered when we are entertaining guests.’ 

He looks up and locks eyes with Hannibal. 

‘No matter how unwelcome they may be.’

Hannibal leers, the lab’s bright lights bouncing off his pitch black glasses, as he beckons for a second employee to go forth. 

It’s a woman with a shaved head and an unsmiling face. She advances slowly, and from a scabbard on her waist she slowly draws out a knife the length of her arm. She raises it and points it at Hermann, her grip rock steady.

Hermann sighs. 

‘A sigh of despair won’t change my mind,’ she informs him. Her voice is sweet and lilting, at odds with her deadly appearance. 

‘Your statement is inaccurate,’ Hermann corrects her. ‘My sigh was born of disappointment, not despair.’

‘Oh?’ She remarks easily. Her steps are small and solid, one foot placed confidently in front of the other, closing the gap steadily between them.

Hermann watches her closely. 

_One eye for her eye, and the other for her feet. Observe, calculate, eliminate, predict._

‘My overly loud exhalation was because I am clearly dealing with an amateur here.’ Hermann now stands straight, his face blank as he distributes his weight evenly over both legs. ‘Your posture is abysmal, and therefore it stands to reason that you will wield the weapon in your hand with all the grace of a dead elephant.’

‘…what?’ The woman frowns briefly, before narrowing her eyes. ‘You trying to say I’m no good with a blade?’

‘I’m not _trying_ to tell you; I _am_ telling you.’ Hermann stands tall and rigid, but he’s now holding the body of his cane in his left hand, the top tilted to the right. His right hand rests on the cane’s handle, and the woman doesn’t see him slowly twist it. 

_That’s what you get for having both eyes in one place._

‘A real bladesman – or bladeswoman – knows that the correct way to hold a blade is not in the way you’re currently demonstrating.’ He completes his twist, and hears a soft snick.

The woman smiles condescendingly. ‘And you are a master with a knife I take it?’

Hermann tilts his head.

‘And by that I mean a _real_ knife, not a butter knife.’

Newton chuckles at that, and Hermann makes a mental note to give him a fourth smack across the head later. He grips his fingers around the top of his cane. ‘You’re holding your knife the wrong way,’ he repeats, as the woman continues advancing towards him, long blade stretched out as far as her leather jacketed arm can reach.

‘It is? Oh dear, that’s me done for then,’ she drawls. ‘But please tell me sir; what _is_ the correct way to hold one?’ 

She advances closer, closer, until the tip of the glinting blade is inches away from Hermann’s throat.

‘…this is.’ 

And in one fluid motion Hermann withdraws a stiletto thin fencing sabre from his cane. He pulls the body of the cane down with his left hand and sends the sabre up and out with his right, the blade whistling through the air, as the middle of it clangs against the knife.

The knife is shunted to the side, the woman’s body unprotected, and Hermann throws all his weight to the side and propels the cane up sharply into her centre. Her eyes bulge at the sharp sting, but before she can retaliate Hermann withdraws the cane and retracts the short sabre. He holds it in a reverse grip, the tip pointing at the ground, and again stabs her with the blunt end of the cane. It sinks into her solar plexus and the wind is driven from her lungs. 

In a graceful curving arc, Hermann then swings his right arm and the tip of his sabre _slices_ through the woman’s blade like…well like a butter knife through butter.

The top third of her knife clatters to the floor, and Hermann treats himself to a second’s worth of looking at her gawping face, now pale and drawn as the blood and swagger drain out of it. 

Still frozen with disbelief, Hermann takes the advantage and pokes her hard in the neck with his cane. Like her colleague before her, she collapses immediately to the ground.

‘Fuck me hard that was _brutal!’_ Newton yells joyously. ‘Oh, man, you’ve _gotta_ teach me how to do that, I never knew you could do any of this, this is _brilliant,_ and-’

_‘Language!’_ Hermann barks. ‘And calm down before you topple over and knock yourself out.’

Hermann looks calmly ahead into Hannibal’s face, raises the saber and, with frightening precision, slots it perfectly back down into the cane. It snicks into place, the top is twisted, and Hermann leans back onto it as usual.

Hannibal isn’t smiling now. In fact he looks full of dark rage, as he thrusts both hands behind his back. 

_One eye for his face, the other for his hands._

Newton is smiling through a haze of pain and a stream of blood, and gives the impression that he wants to give Hermann a double thumbs up. ‘That was _beyond_ cool, it really was! Oh, man, its magic!’

‘It most definitely is not _magic_ ,’ Hermann retorts drily. ‘Although such an unorthodoxly executed blend of mathematics and anatomical accuracy has become so rare it is hardly surprising some people find it otherworldly.’

‘…yeah, magic!’ Newton grins widely. ‘You could charge for this, make some money, get some people trained up; I bet the pilots don’t know some of this, I bet _no_ -one knows most of this, I mean how long have you-’

Hannibal strikes halfway through Newton’s babble.

He jerks his right arm up and around and throws his switch blade at Hermann. It sings through the air, golden blades glinting and chopping like a helicopter’s rotor, and the action is so obscenely fast that Newton isn’t aware its happened yet.

Tumbling over each other like an out of control scythe, the knife’s blades cut a perfect path across the room towards Hermann’s chest, blade handle blade spitting out flashes of light as they cycle relentlessly and they’ve almost hit their target and-

_There_

Hermann pulls his cane up sharply and rotates it hard to the right, its long black body lifting up and the movement is so slick and the angle so perfect the switch blade strikes it full on and is knocked away with a clang. The knife is batted away and lands hard, blades clattering along the floor as it spins and slides and comes to rest under a cabinet.

_‘OH MAN!’_ Newton throws back his head and roars, as Hannibal grinds his teeth and makes a clenched fist. ‘Don’t tell me that’s not magic ‘cause it is, it _is_ , and oh, wow, what else have you been hiding Hermann, this is-’ Newton suddenly freezes.

His eyes bulge and his mouth sags, as Hannibal leans in close to him. Hannibal then moves his left up arm, slowly, and the gun that has been jammed into the back of Newton’s head is now stretched out and pointing at Hermann’s face.

‘Ah,’ Hermann says.

‘Ah indeed,’ Hannibal leers. 

‘Now there’s no need to be hasty,’ Hermann says carefully, as he slowly raises his arms up. ‘We’re both reasonable men, and as such we can come to a reasonable conclusion.’ The cane is held in his right hand, fingers loosely gripping the top and the long body pointing sternly at the floor. 

_Up a bit._

‘I do believe that I know where this chest in question is located,’ Hermann continues, as he raises his right arm slightly.

‘So then tell me!’

_A touch to the right._

’I apologise for my colleague’s disgraceful lack of cooperation,’ Hermann says with feeling, as he spreads both arms a bit wider. The fingers on his right hand slip down a fraction, gripping just under the top of the cane as he rests the length of his thumb along the top.

‘I don’t care!’ Hannibal shouts. ‘All I care about is my case, and if you don’t tell me _right now_ where it is, then a whole different type of doctor will be pulling a bullet out of your brain.’

‘Of course.’ Hermann slides his thumb back, slowly, carefully, opening the panel and priming its charge. ‘But will you first accept another apology of mine?’

Hannibal frowns. ‘An apology for what?’

‘For this.’

Hermann presses his thumb down hard, and a needle thin dart shoots out of the top of the cane. It flies through the air quicker than a bullet and pierces Hannibal’s neck before the man can touch his own gun’s trigger.

Hannibal’s mouth opens. ‘Motherf-’ he begins, before the tranquiliser takes hold and shuts down his system. He crumples to the ground, gun clattering out of his limp hand, as his head smacks an arm of the chair Newton’s tied to before repeating the sound as it lands heavily on the ground.

‘Oh, dude, I…’ Newton trails off, debating which combination of expletives and exclamations to utter, but before he can dive in Hermann has stabbed his cane onto the ground. The sharp sound echoes around the lab, now silent and strewn with three unconscious figures. 

‘This was my last one you know,’ he informs Newton irritably. ‘I’m going to have to stock up on venom and chemicals and break into that place _again_ to mix the right cocktail for the darts that-’

_‘Break in?_ When-’

‘Stop interrupting! How about you pay a bit of respect for once in your life?’

‘How about you stop bitching and get me out of here?’

Hermann shakes his head and slides the concealed top of the cane back into place. He finally moves out of the doorway and into the lab itself, stepping carefully over Hannibal’s two workers, to make his way to a cabinet to the side. 

‘Hey!’ Newton exclaims. ‘Didn’t you hear me? Or do you just like the thought of me all tied up? You do, don’t you, you sick- oh. Oh, sorry dude, yeah, that…’ Newton grimaces slightly and trails off. 

Hermann has bent down and run a hand carefully along the gap under the cabinet, until his fingers make contact with metal. He grasps carefully and stands up slowly, one hand leaning on his cane and the other brandishing Hannibal’s switch blade. 

He makes his way over to Newton, not attempting to conceal the disdain in his face and voice. ‘As brilliant as I am, even I am devoid of the ability to sever ropes using nothing but the thoughts in my head.’

With brisk efficiency he cuts through Newton’s binds and, in a gesture even Hannibal would have been impressed with, twists and flicks and contorts the switch blade into all manner of stuttering shapes before sheathing the blade and pocketing the knife.

Newton grins, and uses a sleeve to wipe away his streaming nose. ‘Show off.’

Hermann continues to glare down at Newton. ‘Were you really so stupid as to think their reasons for wanting to see you were wholly benevolent? They could have _hurt_ you Newman, and judging by the looks in their eyes they could have _killed_ you.’

Newton stands up slowly, combing a hand back through his hair as he does so. ‘Why Hermann, that almost sounded like you _cared_ about me!’

‘I care about the state of this lab!’ Hermann snaps back. ‘If you’d gotten yourself killed I’d have had to clean up this mess by myself. You owe me at least fifty hours’ worth of cleaning reparations you know.’

‘…I owe you a lot more than that.’ Newton says this softer, quicker, and glances away to fiddle with the end of his shirtsleeve as he tries to roll it up his arm even higher. 

‘…well yes, quite, you…’ Hermann clears his throat loudly, gruffly, not sure what to make of this sudden change in tone, and stabs the ground with his cane. He swallows. ‘You…you owe me _sixty_ hours cleaning penance. And I’ll be counting every second, mark my words!’

‘I’ll ink them onto the back of my legs,’ Newton agrees, as he puts both hands on his hips. ‘But if you’ll excuse me, I need to do something before that…’

He sidles round to the back of the chair where Hannibal is lying in a heap. Newton gives the man a swift kick in the ribs, before squatting down to rummage around in his pockets.

‘Oh for the love of-’ Hermann begins. ‘Have you no shame? Rooting around the garments of the recently desensitised? _Pick-pocketing_ a comatose man like a common thief?’ 

‘…here we are!’ Newton pronounces, as he straightens up. A glass test tube full of a dark purple liquid is clutched triumphantly in his hand. ‘Now we can _really_ get this party started!’

‘…what are you…?’ Hermann splutters, as his eyes dart from Newton’s face to the test tube to Hannibal to the test tube again and then back to Newton’s beaming face and oh; _OH_.

‘You planned this, didn’t you?’ Despite himself Hermann’s jaw has dropped. ‘You _wanted_ Hannibal here so that you could get that liquid from him, didn’t you?’

Newton makes an elaborate bow, and pockets the test tube. He zips his jacket pocket up and winks at Hermann. ‘This little beauty is _priceless!_ Undiluted Kaiju embryonic fluid fresh as the day you were born. No way I could have rescued it from Hannibal on his own turf: too many of his goons about the place and too many unknown corridors to get lost in. But allow him to come here, he’d bring one, two, maybe three chumps along with him; not so many to take down, so no problem, _and_ I’d have the home advantage to plan a quick getaway.’

Hermann cocks his head, and regards Newton as if he’s the most unimpressive thing in the world. ‘And how exactly were you planning to utilise the home advantage and plan a _quick getaway_ when you were tied beaten and bloody to that chair?’

Newton’s eyes glaze over for half a second. 

‘…I would have figured something out. It’s all cool man; the brain works better when you’re not focused on just one thing, ‘cause you’re more likely to…you know, think of other things. So the more things I didn’t think of the more I _would_ have thought of, and so the more escape solutions I would have come up with!’

‘Pseudo-babble poppycock. But I shouldn’t be surprised, since such a modus oparandi is _completely_ up your street, and-’

‘Ah, take that stick out of your ass and twirl it about again! All’s well that ends well is what I say. Now, let’s get going before Sleeping Beauty and friends wake up.’

Hermann grips his cane tight. ‘…by _let’s get going_ can I correctly deduce that you are proposing an emergency meeting with Mr. Pentecost to relay the unfortunate yet necessary events that have just transpired?’

‘Eh? Stop talking nonsense and get a move on Hermann; we haven’t got long before they notice Hannibal won’t be coming back soon.’

‘ _Who_ won’t notice?’

‘Hannibal’s crew. Or employees. Or whatever you want to call the motely crew that infest his shop. With the big cheese out of action it’s the _perfect_ time to raid it!’

Hermann grips his cane tighter, his knuckles turning white. ‘…you _can_ not be serious.’

Newton throws his arms out wide. ‘Serious as a quadratic equation baby! He’s got specimens tucked away that will make your _hair_ fall out, they’re so rare. But he doesn’t respect them, so they need to be saved; saved and put to a use that will benefit all that’s left of mankind.’

‘Ridiculous. Utterly, utterly ridiculous.’

‘Say what you want Hermann, but I’m-’

‘ _Stop_ calling me by my first name!’

‘But I’m going regardless of what you do next, _Hermann_ , but…but it might be cool if you tagged along with me. So that you can practise your ninja skills again, that’s all. You’re always going on about practice making perfect, so now’s your chance!’

Hermann arranges his face into yet another scowl. ‘You’ve got a big mouth on you, Geiszler.’

‘I’ve got a big _brain!_ And what happened to my doctorate? Slipped down the plug hole did it? Go big or go extinct my man!’

‘ _What?_ You’re making no sense whatso-’

‘Ah come on; what would you rather do – give a boring follow up report to Pentecost, or come with me to blaze a trail through the Kaiju Underworld?’

‘I most _definitely_ should be preparing for the former…’ Hermann says firmly, but allows himself to trail off.

Newton grins. ‘…but you’d _much_ rather be doing the latter, yeah, I know, I see it tattooed all over you. So do it. Just…do it. Come with me. …come with me again, and you won’t regret it again.’

Hermann frowns deeply, but doesn’t move or say a word.

‘Come on man, let’s face facts!’ Newton exclaims loudly. ‘You’re a _badass!_ ’

‘I am nothing of the common sort!’ Hermann snaps, as he sharply turns his head away. But it’s not quick enough for Newton to miss the grin straining to tug at his lips. 

‘Yeah you are!’ Newton beams. ‘You’ve got it going _on!_ And you owe it to the world to put those skills to use. To, you know, the science world.’

‘…the science world?’ Hermann turns his head back to look at Newton, and his face is set hard. ‘I didn’t realise I owed it a debt.’

‘There are _warehouses_ full of guts and glory and boring papers with number scribbled on them at Hannibal’s place! The man is a full blown psycho, and they don’t belong in his hands. Let’s go grab them and put them to good use.’

Hermann’s mouth contorts. ‘That sounds irresponsible, illegal and wholly unbefitting a pair of prominent doctors with world class PhDs.’ 

Despite all logic, Newton’s grin gets even wider. ‘But it sounds like a hell of a lot of fun, right?’

Hermann scowls, but there’s a colour to his cheeks and a glint in his eyes. ‘…if we _did _undertake all of what you just indecently proposed, it would strictly be in the name of science, _nothing_ more, you understand?’ He says the words harshly, brutally, in a tone that has caused world leaders to glance nervously down into their coffee cups. __

But Newton just grins so widely it threatens to split his face. ‘Science bros forever!’

_‘What?’_

‘I said yeah, of course, this will be strictly business dude; a field trip to search and retrieve the lost bastions of our underappreciated profession.’ He salutes sharply, fingers cutting into the side of his head. ‘PPDC honour.’

Hermann feels the corners of his lips tug upwards again, and battles to straighten them. ‘If we do this, _I’m_ in charge; God only knows what mess we’ll get into if you take the lead.’

‘I can get on board with that.’ Newton takes a breath, deep and contented, as he glances around the room before looking back at Hermann. ‘On one condition though.’

‘Oh here we bloody go,’ Hermann sighs. ‘What-’

‘You’ve gotta teach me to do that cane-wielding-twist thing, so I can knock like _bullets_ out of the air!’

Hermann snorts. ‘For a man of science you’re disgracefully lacking in the fundamental laws of physics.’

‘Which is where you come in! I figured out your neck-jab-thrust move first time round: speed and pressure to the ceratoid artery, badass scowl, temporarily cut off their blood supply, smooth cutting remark as they lose consciousness and hit the dirt and then _bam!_ Goodnight Vienna and don’t ever fuck with me again. I _am_ rather well read in the biologies don’t forget.’

Hermann fingers his cane, as he tries not to focus on the maelstrom of thoughts and possibilities crashing around his head. ‘It would be improper of me to join such an expedition.’

‘It would indeed,’ Newton agrees.

‘And if I did go, I would have a lot of explaining to do to senior officials upon my return.’

‘You’d have to talk your sweet ass out of a shitload of trouble,’ Newton promises cheerfully.

‘And if I _didn’t_ go, then you’d most likely get yourself killed and I’d be left with double the workload and triple the aggravation, so…so the only logical outcome based on those conclusions is to…’ 

Hermann looks cautiously at Newton, as his colleague takes a step towards him, face shining with sweat and fluid and unbound exhilaration. His eyes are alight and his posture ablaze, as he grips Hermann hard on the shoulder and grins widely.

‘It’s a brave new world dude and we’re the leaders of the pack, so howl it with me!’

Despite all attempts to force it back, Hermann finds himself grinning as well. ‘Stop uttering such ridiculous misnomers, and tell me exactly what we’re going to do.’

'You want to know what we’re going to do?’

‘If it’s not too much trouble for you to utter.’

Newton grips harder, and smiles so wide his teeth beam like diamonds.

‘We’re going downtown, and we’re going to _own_ it!’


End file.
